Repatriation
by thebatmandiaries
Summary: Repatriation; the process of returning an asset, an item of symbolic value or a person – voluntarily or forcibly – to its owner or their place of origin or citizenship. Or, Bruce finds some of Jason's things after his death, and finally returns them to their rightful owner.


_Repatriation; the process of returning an asset, an item of symbolic value or a person – voluntarily or forcibly – to its owner or their place of origin or citizenship._

* * *

Bruce stared at the hoodie he had found when cleaning Jason's room. He couldn't make Alfred clean this room anymore, it wasn't fair to him. It's not fair to anyone. He thought to himself. He crushed the hoodie in his hand, liking the pain to be shoved down so he could continue his task at hand.

He looked at the empty room, the room that shouldn't be empty. It should have had a kid bursting with energy, talking quickly about how much he liked school, and what his latest project was. Bruce felt his chest tighten as he tried to breathe. He took a shaky breath, and tried to reign in his emotions, with no such luck.

"Bruce?" A voice said, causing him to whip around. "Are you okay?"

It was just Dick. Bruce tried not to the disappointment show on his face, but he's wasn't sure he succeeded, as Dick's face shuttered, shoving what emotion he had away, Bruce unable to see what he was feeling.

"I'm fine, Dick." He muttered.

"You sure? Because it seems to me, that you are standing in Jason's old room, staring into it." Dick out a hand on his shoulder, "It's not healthy Bruce, you can't keep doing this to yourself."

He yanked Dick's hand off his shoulder. "It is still Jason's room, it will never not be his room."

Dick frowned and sighed. "Okay, Bruce." He walked away, shaking his head.

Bruce felt bad, but who was Dick to say this wasn't healthy. He closed the door, the sweatshirt still in his hands.

* * *

A month goes by, and he is no better off than he was before. He makes a memorial for Jason in the cave. He knew Jason would have hated it, but he needed to be reminded of his failure, his loss. It mocked him every day and put his pain on display for everyone to see.

I'm sorry. He thought. Jason, I'm so sorry.

"Bruce, are you okay?" A voice startled him. He turned to the sound. For a second he thought he dreamt the whole thing, and Jason was still here. Then reality came crashing down on him. Jason was dead, had been for a month now. The guilt ripped into him, like a hungry beast starving for a meal.

"Sorry, Tim." He tried to smile. "I'm fine. Let's run through your training again, you are still lagging in a few areas, and I can't let you on the street just yet."

Tim was a good kid, he was patient and hard working. Had a good head on his shoulders. But he didn't fill the void of Jason's death. Sometimes he would catch himself looking at Tim, and for a split second, he would look like Jason. The reality would crash down on him and he would remember Jason was gone, and never coming back.

Tim didn't deserve to be treated like this, but he couldn't help it.

* * *

Bruce walked into the library, intent on grabbing a book and trying to relax. It had been a long few days and he wanted to at the very least, semi-relax. He walked through the shelves and looked at some books, picked them up from time to time if the cover looked interesting. He had amassed quite a collection when something stopped him dead in his tracks. A book, lying forgotten on the chair, its pages still open. He grabbed it and looked at the title. It was the book he had gotten for Jason. His first proper gift, after him agreeing to go and stay at the manor for good.

_"Jason, I have something I wanted to give you." Bruce said._

_Jason frowned. "What is it?"_

_"I know how much you liked the books in the library. So, since you have been doing so well in school, I wanted to give you a gift."_

_"Really?" Jason looked shocked, and Bruce felt his heart clench at the fact that Jason never has anyone to be proud accomplishments, really._

_"Yeah." He grabbed the aforementioned gift. "It's a signed copy of your favorite book."_

_"Really." Jason grabbed the gift. "Thanks, B!"_

_"Of course, Jason." Bruce smiled. "I'm glad you like it."_

_"It's a first edition signed copy, how can I not like it, B." Jason let out a grin, and teeny laugh._

_Bruce smiled, warmth filling him. He hadn't felt this happy in a long time._

_Bruce_ shook himself out of the memory as he exited the library, still holding onto Jason's most prized possession.

* * *

It was still a wound some days, but it had slowly been healing, his chest not feeling so hollow anymore. He had Tim and Dick to thank fo that, for slowly filling the cracks in his heart. Of course, they didn't fix everything, as the loss of Jason, the pain, will always be there and would never go away.

Sow days he felt like he couldn't go on, but they had been far and in between.

He just wished he didn't have to deal with it in the first place.

* * *

Jason is alive. Over and over, again and again. He couldn't comprehend it. _How could he be alive? He died. I...carried him, his body stiff and still warm in my arms._

He stared at Jason, his last son returned home.

"How." Is all he said, unable to make himself say anything more.

"Talia. Well, the Lazarus Pit, if you want to get technical." Jason shrugged, nonchalantly, like people came back to life every day.

The rain sluiced down his back, unforgiving and angry.

"I see." He said.

"Listen, can I go now?" Jason seemed irritated, and...had a slight green glowing to his eyes?

I need to look into that later. Bruce thought to himself.

"No!" He burst out, surprising himself. "I have some things of yours at the manor, would you like them?"

"You didn't throw 'em in the garbage after I kicked it?" Jason raised an eyebrow.

"Of course not!" He could hear the horror in his voice.

"Keep i. I don't need it." He started o walk away.

"Not even your signed first edition-" Bruce started to say, but was interrupted by Jason.

"You kept it?" Jason couldn't hide the shock in his voice.

"Of course I did Jason. It was the first gift I ever got you." Bruce's voice softened.

"Maybe." He muttered, and jumped off the roof, grappling away.

Leaving Bruce with conflicting emotions, wondering if he would see Jason anytime soon.

* * *

The doorbell rang. Bruce let out a sigh to see who it was. To his utter shock, it was Jason.

"I'm here for my stuff, old man." He said, walking up to his room.

"It's not in there." Bruce said. "It's in my office, this way."

Jason followed Bruce to the office, where his stuff was stored.

Bruce looked at the book before giving it to Jason. "I found it in the library a few months after you died, I didn't want it to be lost, in case..." he trails off.

"In case?" Jason asked.

"It's seemed silly at the time, but I wanted to keep it in case you came back." Bruce laughed. "Which I guess wasn't silly after all."

"Maybe not." Jason muttered.

And for the first time in months, Bruce didn't feel like he had a huge cloud of grief over his head. Jason was back, and that's all he could ask for. For the first time in a long time, Bruce genuinely smiled.


End file.
